Warmth and Light

When I began glow year, I anticipated studying the moon.  I figured I would make florescent jell-o. I thought about lightning bugs and glow rings and jellyfish and even women's athletics.  I planned on a facial.  I didn't think about candles, at least not at first, and I certainly didn't think "glowing goat" would take me in the realm of religion.

Yet here I am.

When my friend RR first posted about her campaign to "Fight Terrorism with Love and Fresh Produce", I was in before I realized it was a "New Roots" campaign, just because, like R, I wanted to do something more tangible than indulge in facebook bickering about the misconceptions of refugee resettlement (and because R does a good job of vetting information).  But "roots" is right there in the description of the program. "Roots"used both literally and figuratively, just the way I wrote about them all year last year.  And then R ended her initial facebook plea with this: "And for my many, many friends like K who are dismayed as I am by the hate and fear being directed at people who have already lost so much, well, let's light a candle in that darkness."

Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love in 2013 (no light for photo yesterday) 

I didn't think much about that line (I'd already been hooked by roots), but I didn't quite ignore it. Because I remembered it as I sat down to write this post.  After many figuratively dark days in the goings on of humanity.  After a day of warm thanks with family and abundance. After an ice storm during which we "took in" friends without power and baked cookies.  After church on the first Sunday of advent where, at one point, I was the only person in the pews* and I was told, over and over again, about hope and the light of the world.  After we lost power and lit our first advent candle, the hope candle, to glow in the icy gray darkness.

Sometimes messages are not subtle.  I am being reminded, over and over again, that darkness abounds, but that there is light.  Sometimes I need to sit still and embrace the darkness so that I can better see the stellar lights of the night.  Sometimes I need to wait for the sunrise. And sometimes, I am called to light a candle of hope.  That's happening now.

Classic Americana

I don't know what darkness you are facing.  I don't know the answers.  But if you can tell me how, I would like to offer you a glowing warm candle of hope, and when you can, I would love for you to pass it on,

I'd also love to offer you a piece of pie or tart.

Chocolate Caramel Pecan, Pumpkin, and Cranberry Walnut

The Mister's Winter Vegetable Garden: Hope Botanified

Our pecan  : (

Day 3 of Ice Storm